


One Step Forward, Five Steps Back

by queen_bitchiest



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, C'mon, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Language, F/M, Fake AH Crew, I mean, Implied past Michael Jones/ Ray Narvaez Jr., Light Angst, M/M, Michael's a human disaster, Michael-centric, Multi, Sad Michael, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-03 17:47:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19469005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queen_bitchiest/pseuds/queen_bitchiest
Summary: Michael knows this is a bad idea. Knows that the longer he stays the more likely they'll discover the truth. Still, he'll push his luck until there's nothing left. Then he'll have another mistake to add to his collection, another hollow feeling to take up space in his heart.





	One Step Forward, Five Steps Back

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting in my WIPs for almost a year and so i completely changed the style, took 3 days to edit it, and here we are.

“Micool?” Gavin's tone is inquisitive and Michael knows that his next words are either going to be one of his hypotheticals or something he isn't sure he should ask.

It's kind of ridiculous that Michael can tell the different tones of his voice, given that he's only been running with the Fakes for a month now. Of course, his whole life is ridiculous so what's one more thing.

Michael takes a drag of his cigarette, let's it out in a long sigh, and allows the question anyways, “Yeah?”

“You got anyone we're keeping you from?” Gavin pauses, scratches from the words on his wrist to the second set on his forearm, “A bird or bloke wondering why you haven't been home in a week.”

That's only part of the question. Michael knows they're curious about his soulmark. If he has one, or multiples, or none at all. The gents are a little less obvious about it but they're all waiting for the day he takes off his jacket, hoping to catch a glimpse of words somewhere on his skin.

He thinks about a purple hoodie, a bright pink sniper rifle, a velvet box sitting sadly in his apartment, a goodbye note he burned. Thinks about the words that curl around his hips, burning with the proximity to the object of their existence.

“Nah, just me.” He flicks his cigarette off the roof and watches it plummet down the side of the skyscraper until he can't see it anymore, “Well, there is this stray cat that shows up for my scraps. She's gotta be getting pissed.”

Gavin snorts out a laugh, shaking his head, “Not good to have a cat pissed at you… Wait, does Ruby count as a cat?”

Michael huffs. His phone starts to ring and he digs it out of his pocket,  _ speak of the devil _ .

He answers it to Lindsay shouting at someone in the background, he clears his throat.

She stops mid shout, “Hey Alpha, we were just wondering when the  _ fuck _ you're planning on showing back up at the den? Preferably before Alpha-Beta tears her damn hair out.”

Michael moves to stand, “Sorry, was taking a breather before I came back. Just finished my smoke, I'm on my way.”

“Great! See you in fifteen?”

“Ten.”

She goes back to shouting as the call ends. He shakes his head, pockets his phone, and offers a hand to Gavin.

Gavin takes it, letting himself be pulled up, “So you do got places to be.”

He shrugs, “I was doing pretty good before your crew contacted me, have my own little operations running.”

Gavin raises an eyebrow, “And you left it for a week to help with our heist?”

Michael shrugs again, “Left my second in charge but if I don't go back soon they're all gonna beat my ass.”

***

Lindsay and Elyse are waiting for him at Wolves Den, both of them wrapped in fur coats and leaned beside the back door. They're apparently sharing their smoke break and don't spare him a glance as he rolls up in his Challenger. They do finally look over when he gets out and walks towards them.

“Evening Alpha, I'll be up in…” Elyse checks her phone, “Two minutes and thirty seven seconds.”

He nods, opening the door to a gust of warm air. The back is bustling with activity. The women getting ready, slipping into outfits, doing last minute touch ups to makeup. There's the combined buzz of chatter and the thumping music from the front.

He's greeted as he carefully picks through the crowd. Many of the girls asking why he's been gone so long, updating him on schedule changes, telling him how business has been the past week.

In his office Meg is splayed across his leather couch, cigarette in one hand, tossing a throwing knife with the other.

“No smoking in my office,” He grumbles, stealing the cigarette for himself and he sits down at his desk, “And stop hiding weapons in my building like the murderous squirrel you are.” He reaches under his seat and pulls out the dagger she had stashed there, “ The fuck? How did you even get that to stay?”

Meg shrugs, pulling out a pack from between the couch cushions to light another cigarette for herself, “It's an assassin thing. And I'll stop hiding weapons around when the people who come into your establishment stop being threats.”

He turns his chair to stare at her, “The girls are perfectly safe, we have guards. And I've had three girls in the last month bring me weapons they found in the rooms, one of them's gonna get hurt.”

She blows smoke out of her nose, “Let me train them and I'll stop.”

“You're not turning my girls into a gang.”

“Just a small one.”

“No.”

“The  _ tiniest _ of ops.”

“No.”

“Just for self defense. Me and the others won't have to play guardians then, We can be doing other things, raking in more money for the club.”

“You don't have to bring in money for the club. You're free to leave when you want.”

“You don't trust anyone else with your girls and you can't do it all yourself. Not with your current…” She waved a hand at his entirety, “soul problems. Besides, you couldn't get rid of us now, even if you wanted to.”

He groaned, drawn out and over dramatic, “Fine.”

She grinned, all Cheshire like, and he regretted agreeing with her immediately. Too late to go back now, Meg already jumping up and putting out her cigarette in one motion. Her purple hair bouncing wildly as she kisses his cheek, twirling to prance out of the room.

She stops in the doorway, smile softening slightly, “Thanks Alpha.”

He waves a hand, “Yeah, yeah. Get out of here Dollface.”

Elyse comes in moments after Meg leaves, thumb pointing over her shoulder, “Why is Doll happier than her normal ‘I'm allowed to carry a katana around work’ happy?”

He just groans, leaning so far back in his seat it threatens to tip, and leaves her to decide for herself what that means.

“O-kay.” She nods, hopping to sit on top of his desk, grabbing her tablet, “Well, Mica had to leave early tonight cause of Kdin being sick, I told her we'd still pay her for the whole night.”

He grunted in agreement, “Paid leave for Kdin too.”

She taps on her tablet, “Done. That Shantro asshole called again, wanting a house call with all the usual threats. I told him to choke on a dick. Should we deal with him?”

“If he calls again yeah, and he's not allowed to step foot in here or Meg's allowed to cut his dick off with a rusty hand saw.”

She tapped some more on her tablet, “How'd the heist go? Well, besides what we saw on the news. Had a whole gathering in the back to watch. Everyone was real proud of your stunt with the bike by the way.”

_ SUVs caging them in on both sides and a semi barreling down the interstate their way. Ryan's arms tight around his waist. Shooting in front of the SUV and skidding across two lanes, under the semi, to come out on the other side unscathed and with a straight shot off a ramp. _

He grinned, “That was fucking ballsy, wasn't sure if it was gonna work. Surprised I didn't fuck it up, or loose Vagabond.”

Elyse laughed, “Headlines: Vagabond and Mogar, suicide or accident?” Her voice dropped a couple of octaves and she held up an imaginary mic, “Some people argue it was suicide, both criminals’ pasts catching up with them and causing them to atone for their crimes with death. Others believe it was Mogar finally getting in over his head and taking the notorious Vagabond with him. Either way, the two criminals went out with the bang the city predicted they would.”

Their office filled with laughter.

***

The bank's foundations shook with the explosion, raining concrete dust onto their heads. He stepped through the hole that used to be the vault door, Geoff and Ryan two steps behind him.

“Mogar take right, Vagabond take left.” Geoff ordered, turning to guard the entrance.

Ryan tossed him a duffel and they swept through the room, gathering up any valuables they could.

Michael looked over when Ryan laughed. Ryan had cracked open a safe and was now holding a gold crown in his hands.

“Do you think it's real?” He asked, already pulling off his skull mask, “Can I keep it?”

Michael finished and made his way over, grinning as Ryan settled the crown on his head, “It suits you, my Mad King.”

Ryan smiled at him and accepted the hand to be pulled up.

Geoff shook his head as they passed, “Just don't get shot you lunatic.”

Ryan gasped dramatically, making an interesting expression in his face paint, “I would never! Besides,” He motioned to Michael, “I have a brave warrior to protect me.”

“This isn't Minecraft!” Geoff called after them, waving his hands around in a failing attempt to make them see his point, “He doesn't even have a diamond sword!”

Michael waved his mini-gun in the air, glancing over his shoulder, “Close enough!”

He heard Geoff grumble something that sounded suspiciously like  _ I'm getting too old for this shit _ , but he also heard Geoff following them, so there was that.

In the foyer Jeremy and Gavin were already barking orders for their hostages to file into the office, thank you for your cooperation, have a nice day!

“Battle Buddies, take a duffel and the Z.” Geoff orders, “Nice Dynamite, take a duffel and the Double O. Beardo, I need my pickup.”

“On it Kingpin.” Jack's voice crackles over the radio and Michael can hear her helicopter swoop low over the building.

Gavin was already jogging over to him so Michael tossed him the bag so he could find the keys. They go out the side door while Ryan and Jeremy go out the front. He can hear Ryan's crazy laughter followed by the roar of his Zeronto. Sliding into his Challenger he starts the engine, watching Gavin slide over the hood to get in the passenger side.

"Was that necessary?” He asks, rolling up to the alleyway entrance.

“For the dramatics, boi!” Gavin defends, buckling in after he learned from last time he got slung around riding with Michael.

Once the coast is clear Michael whips onto the road, everything in his car shifting to the right, and the Challenger roars as he rapidly gains speed. He takes them through the midday traffic with ease that surprises even himself. While there’s a couple close calls, getting a little too cozy with other vehicles for comfort, Michael has to say that it’s still up there as one of his smoothest getaways.

Gavin’s slightly nervous laughter fills his Challenger as they flash past a squad of police cars coming to meet them. The cruiser at the front of the pack clips their bumper and the Challenger jerks before he can steady it back out. There goes a couple points from smoothness.

Michael slips between the back of a truck and a semi and shoots down the clear lane, hearing tires squeal behind them. Gavin is starting to look a little green now and Michael’s forced to imagine the pain of getting vomit out of his seat.

“Don’t you fucking dare-”

“I’m good, boi. Eyes on the road.”

Michael sighs but slows down just a little when he goes to turn out of the city, “Better be.”

***

He’s settling in for a quiet night in his apartment, scrappy supposed-to-be-stray cat lounging on the back of his sofa and all, when there’s a knock on the door. He knows it’s not one of the girls, all of them invite themselves in through the fire escape, so he grabs his pistol from counter as he goes to answer it.

He swings the door open, already raising his pistol to face-fucking-up height, only to freeze, “ _ Jeremy? _ What the fuck?”

The man smiles sheepishly, even offers him a little wave, “Hey, so I might have, kinda, maybe, gotten in an argument with the others and we all live together and all so it’s real awkward and I was wondering if I could maybe stay here?”

Michael would normally be more willing to help, probably, but “How the fuck do you know where I live?”

Jeremy’s eyes widen a little, like he realized what he just did, “Um, well, you see, Gavin is real nosy and-”

Michael not really  _ that  _ surprised, so he just grabs Jeremy by the front of his shirt and yanks him inside. Jeremy stumbles in enough for Michael to shut his door, then stands there attempting to not be obvious as he looks around and failing spectacularly.

The cat just blinks at the intruder and meows at Michael as he passes her. He pats her on the head and is only a little disappointed when she nips at his fingers for his efforts.

“Is that the stray Gavin was talking about?” Jeremy asks, and Michael glances back to see him having taken the couple of steps to stand at the back of the couch.

“Yeah, don’t touch her.” He finds a chicken strip in a takeout box in his fridge and turns to drop it in her food bowl, “She’s not my cat, probably has rabies or some shit.”

“Not your cat, huh?” Jeremy asked, pointedly looking at where she’s trotted over to nibble on the offering that’s sitting in the surprisingly cute green bowl that has cat faces all over it.

“Fucking Ruby noticed her on the fire escape last time she was here, when I got back home there were bowls and a cat tree and a bed the fleabag doesn’t even sleep in.” Michael defends himself, then frowns at the need to defend himself, “And if you’re gonna be an ass you can find somewhere else to stay.”

Jeremy blushes tomato red, “Sorry… Thank you by the way.”

Michael turns back to his nearly empty fridge in hopes of summoning food for them as well, “Don’t worry bout it, what are you even fighting about?”

Jeremy shrugs, flopping himself into a bar stool, “I got injured during a job and didn’t notice and everyone else overreacted about it and are pissed at me for not telling them I got hurt, but how did they expect me to do that when I didn’t even realize it myself?”

Michael found cartons of Chinese takeout and offered one to Jeremy, “Sounds like they’re just scared for you. They’ll get their heads out of their asses then you can all apologize and dog-pile in the same bed again or whatever the shit it is you do.”

That got him a little chuckle out of Jeremy, “Yeah, I’ll go back in the morning, promise. I just wanted some quiet for tonight.”

Michael shrugged, scooping a pile of rice into his mouth, “I mean, no promises on quiet cause the girls like to hop in from time to time, but my place is yours as long as the Vagabond doesn’t come busting down my door to get you.”

Jeremy swallows an egg roll whole before answering, “Thanks. Imma probably crash immediately though.”

Michael points to the only two doors in his apartment, “Bedroom and bathroom. I don’t care to share the bed, my couch is shit.”

The cat meows in agreement from where she’s resettled herself on the back of said couch.

“I don’t care either.” Jeremy shrugs, throwing away the takeout box and disappearing into the bedroom. “Thanks, again. Night.”

Michael throws away his box and locks his front door. Then he spends the next ten minutes trying to convince the stray to leave before he finally just announces to her that he’s shutting the goddamn window and he’s not opening it again until the morning so she better not throw a fit.

“Mrumph.” She answers, following him to the bedroom door.

“Fuck no.” He says, having a staring contest with a cat over the rules in his own apartment.

He won’t admit that he loses the contest, but he leaves the door cracked. He hears her follow him in. She jumps up on his bed, tail flicking as she picks her way over Jeremy’s passed out form to curl up on the pillow above his head.

Michael phone lights up when he plugs it in and he notices the message from Geoff that he received twenty minutes ago.

_ Is Jeremy with you? Is he alright? _ That’s all it says but Michael’s soulmarks still tingle at the care coming through his phone in waves.

He scowls and tries to quell his knee-jerk rudeness in response to the feeling, managing only slight hostility in his answer of  _ He’s fine. Says he’ll be back in the morning so don’t come breaking down my fucking door _ .

He turns to flop onto the bed only to find the stray having splayed herself across his pillow as well, “No.”

He moves her to the bottom of the bed, minimal number of fingers nipped, and lays down without disturbing Jeremy. Moments later the stray picks her way over top of him to flop down on Jeremy’s pillow, the tip of her tail flicking Michael’s temple as she starts to purr.

_ This could be every night  _ a little voice whispers, and he tells it to shut the fuck up, he’s trying to sleep thankyouverymuch. It doesn’t listen, and his thigh still feels like it’s burning.

***

“Michael will have set charges here, here, and here.” Geoff says, “Once we’re out of there, those should cause enough of a distraction for us to at least get a head start.

Michael nods, already going through his mental list of explosives to find which would do the job. All the others look like they’re barely paying attention, but Jeremy is asking a question about where exactly he should be when the vault is being cleared so Michael knew they had to have heard some of it.

Michael was going to be with Ryan in the vault, they worked well as a team and in Geoffs words ‘were less likely to fuck up and do something dumb as dicks’.

Ryan caught his eye over the table and dangled his car keys just within view.

Michael wasn’t so sure he could agree with Geoff, but he was glad the man had some faith in Michael to not fuck up. Well, not fuck up the heist.

Right now, though, his whole body felt like it was on fire. He’d been stuck in here with them for coming on two hours. He’d needed a smoke break a hour and a half ago. Right now, though, his leg has been bouncing for the last twenty minutes and here was Ryan dangling the keys to one of his stupidly fast cars.

He nods and they both stood, Ryan looking over to Geoff, “Dismissed?”

Geoff glances between the two of them and rolls his eyes, “Yeah, whatever, assholes. You’re all dismissed.”

Ryan smiles, starts towards the door, and is stopped by Jack.

“Be careful you two, no cop chases this close to a heist.” She says, pulling Ryan down for a kiss.

Michael gives her a thumbs up as they leave. He can’t promise her shit, but he’ll try his best not to get one of her soulmates killed.

There’s an ache in his chest at that thought, but he puts a lid on that real quick and shoves it away to deal with later (never).

“What have you been up to?” Ryan asks as they step in the elevator.

He shrugs, “Working, dealing with meddling friends. Really been just an average week in the life of Mogar, no grand explosions, not even- wait no, there was that incident with the grenade I take that back.”

Ryan raises an eyebrow, “Should I be worried? Someone out to get you?”

Michael can feel his cheeks burn in embarrassment, thinking back to how the stray had decided to come investigate what he was doing while he was tweaking with a grenade. She’d only set off a tiny explosion that was mainly just the dusting of gunpowder that had settled over his table, but now he needed a new table.

“A stray cat.” He shakes his head, “Can’t get rid of her though, believe me I tried.”

Halfheartedly, he’ll admit, and when that didn’t work he’d gave up and started texting Lindsay about how to care for a damn cat. She’d happily exchanged said information for pictures and videos of the stray being cute, and Michael had even sent a couple of the videos to Jeremy.

Ryan’s laughing at him though, and he’s not even decent enough to pick a car while he laughs. Waits until he’s done obnoxiously giggling to walk towards his Zeronto.

(Michael’s calf is still burning. The rest of him isn’t, though, so that’s a plus.)

***

He hears his window open and someone climbing in. There’s the sound of his fridge opening and beer bottles clinking. The fridge shuts, Lindsay coos at the stray, then she’s standing in his doorway, judging look already on her face.

“You know, for someone supposedly against having soulmates you sure do spend a lot of time tracing those words.” She says before moving to sit on the bed beside him.

He looks down at where he’d been rubbing at the words on his wrist.  _ I’m Kingpin and this is my kingdom _ . He frowns eyes automatically trailing a little further up his forearm to the next set of words.  _ I guess that makes me his queen, thanks for coming _ .

He looks back up at Lindsay, “They were itching, fuck off.”

Lindsay just shook her head, “Why haven’t you gotten rid of it?”

He feels his head physically spinning from the topic change, and even after giving himself a moment to process he still doesn’t understand, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

She nods over to his drawers, “The ring?”

He blinks, brain attempting to reboot, “How do you even know that’s fucking there?”

“Meg found it last time she was here.”

“What was she doing in my drawers?!”

“Looking for socks, duh. Now answer the question.”

He shrugs, going back to scrolling through his phone, “Dunno, been busy.”

Lindsay sits on the edge of his bed, hand coming to rub at his calf, “He’s not coming back, y’know?”

He hums. When she realizes he’s not going to answer she sighs, moving to lay next to him.

“So what’s it like working for the Fakes?” She asks, rolling her head to smile at him.

He raises an eyebrow at her, “You’re literally part of B Team.”

“Yeah, but you’re working with the main five.”

“Oh my fucking  _ god _ . It’s like any other gang I guess.”

“Didn’t the last gang you were part of try to kill you as soon as the job was done?”

“No, no, that was the gang before the last one. I ended up having a shootout with them and I‘d like to point out that I won.”

“You showed up at my apartment with a concussion and six bullets in you.”

He held up a finger, “But I still won.”

She smacked him in the face, muttering something about idiots and dying, and left for the living room. Moments later he could hear the stray meow and Lindsay start cooing at her again. His gaze flickered over to his drawers before quickly going back to his Twitter feed.

_ Soft hands running up his sides and stubble scratching his chin, his chest, his cheek- Sniper shots ringing out from above and the knowledge that he was safe. _

***

Michael’s staying at the penthouse again, lurking around late at night (trying to avoid nightmares) when he finds Geoff and Jack in the kitchen. Jack is sipping at a drink while Geoff cooks something on the stove. The man is quietly singing a song, half of the words forgotten and replaced by humming.

Jack notices him in the doorway and smiles, waving him in, “Hey Michael, can’t sleep?”

His whole arm burns as Michael joins her at the table, glancing over at the microwave to see two forty-five glaring at him. Geoff waves his spatula at him before flipping a pancake. Jack gets up to refill her drink, pouring another cup and offering it to him when she sits back down.

He enjoys the warmth of the cup before taking a sip, “Hot chocolate?”

Jack shrugs, “Helps calm my nerves.”

“That or flying.” Geoff offers, “I’m more of a cook it away kinda guy. What about you?”

“Eh, you know. I blow shit up or drive really fast.”

“Try to destroy your problems or run from them?” She jokes.

Michael laughs but shrugs, “Been doing it all my life.”

Geoff nods, “Whatever works.”

They settle into a comfortable silence after that, Geoff humming and Jack tapping her mug along to the beat. Geoff eventually sets plates of pancakes in front of them, adding a healthy dollop of whipped cream to each.

As they eat Jack tells him of a robbery they did when it was just the two of them. Geoff jumps in when she reveals to Michael how much more of a disaster he used to be, countering with an equally embarrassing story of something she fucked up.

Michael finds himself nodding off without meaning to, listening to the two of them quietly bicker about old crimes they committed and who exactly fucked up what. The hoodie he borrowed from Ryan is soft and warm and he finds himself settling back into his seat and the fluffiness of the hood.

He’s drug back into semi-consciousness sometime later by a hushed conversation.

“Should we wake him?” Geoff is asking, “There’s no way he can be comfortable like that.”

“Yeah, but he might not be able to go back to sleep. Best to probably leave him.” Jack suggests.

A hand brushes through his hair before he hears them walking away. He debates getting up and going to his room, but decides he’s too tired and allows himself to fall back asleep.

***

Jeremy drags him out two nights before the heist. They go bar hopping until they’re shitfaced, laughing and convincing each other to try more and more extravagant drinks. In one of the bars Jeremy finds a drink that has actual flakes of gold in it, so of course they have to drink it. Just so they can tell Gavin about it.

By now Michael’s well past buzzed, can feel himself tilting just a little bit on the bar stool. Jeremy is leaning against him, attempting a conversation with the girl who sat down beside them. Something about the gold makeup she’s sporting and where can Jeremy buy some for his boyfriend?

Michael’s busy staring at Jeremy in the bar light, his flushed cheeks, how he looks so damn kissable. Michael’s calf is burning but he can barely feel it. Can barely stop himself following through with wandering thoughts.

So, he’s distracted. Doesn’t pay attention to the guy who approaches their little group, until the man’s hand lands on the girl’s leg and she tenses.

Michael clears his throat, “Uhh, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

The guy doesn’t pay any attention to him, so Michael sets his drink down, makes sure Jeremy can sit on his own, and stands up.

“Ey, fuckface.” The guy turns to glare at him, “I said, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m trying to have a conversation.” The guys says, all slow like he thinks Michael’s stupid.

“Yeah, one she doesn’t want to have,” Michael motions to where the girl’s shifting uncomfortably in her seat, “So why don’t you fuck off to wherever you came from.”

The guy laughs, smiles like he’s won something other than the ‘biggest dick of the night’ award, “Why don’t you and your little friend go back to your sissy drinks and leave us alone.”

Michael bares his teeth at the man, “One, fuck you. Two, our drinks have more alcohol content than you have brain cells. Three,  _ fuck you _ .”

The punch makes Michael stumble back, blood filling his mouth. He snarls, ducking under the guy’s next swing, and tackles him to the ground. He hears Jeremy whoop behind him and glass shattering. The guy grapples to flip them over and Michael headbutts him, hearing the satisfying crunch of the asshole’s nose.The guy screams out , hands leaving Michael to cover his nose, and Michael grabs him by his hair to knock him out against the floor below.

Michael stands, only wobbling a little, and spits out a glob of blood next the the unconscious asshole. He turns to smile at Jeremy and the girl. She’s staring at him wide-eyed, but there’s a little smile on her lips as she does so.

“Sorry ‘bout all that,” Michael offers her his arm, “I can’t stand self-absorbed dick bags.”

She laughs, looping her arm through his, “Me either. Thank you.”

Jeremy loops his arm through Michael’s other one and starts pulling them towards the door, “We can escort you out, Miss. Wherever you’d like.”

“Thank you, I think just to the curb will do. I can call a friend to pick me up, she lives near here.”

Michael nods, breathing in the fresh air as they step outside. The street’s bright with the lights of other bars and pubs. There’s someone climbing into a cab across the street. The girl calls her friend and they have a short conversation, sounding a lot like she woke the other up, before she happily pockets her phone.

“Alright! She’s on her way, would you guys care to wait with me, it’ll only be about five minutes?” She asks, looking around to where people are giving them a wide berth “I can handle myself, but you guys are kinda creep repellent.”

“Of course!” Jeremy perks up, “We never did get to finish our conversation.”

And Michael leaves them to their make-up debate. Taking it upon himself to glare off any suspicious passersby. Five minutes fly by and there’s a honk from the road. The girl looks over and perks up at the sight of her friend glaring at her though the passenger window.

“Hang on just a sec!” She tells them, running towards her friend’s car.

She leans so far through the window she almost topples in, before springing back out brandishing a sharpie. She runs back over, uncapping it as she goes.

She makes grabbing motions towards Jeremy’s arm, “Can I?”

Jeremy offers his bare arm and she writes down a make-up brand before drawing an arrow to it and writing  _ Fiona's bomb ass gold look _ . Jeremy must find this hilarious because he doubles over giggling.

Michael nods toward the sharpie, “Can I?”

“Sure!” Fiona hands over the sharpie, already offering her arm.

Michael gently takes her forearm, holding it still as he writes  _ Wolves Den _ and the club’s number, explaining as he does, “This is the club I run. If you ever need anything, even just someone to go bar hopping with you, call this number and my girls will be happy to help. Just don’t let them fool you, they’re all devious assholes.”

Fiona laughs, “I’ve heard of this place, friend took me there when I first moved here. Thanks.”

Michael shrugs, “It’s no problem, they’d kick my ass if I didn’t offer.”

Fiona’s friend honks and she waves goodbye, turning to jog over to the car. Michael watches as she hops into the car through the window, much to the annoyance of her friend, given the shouts of complaint.

They’re even more drunk by the time they get back to the penthouse. Jeremy’s using Michael for support, babbling about some heist him and Gavin brewed up that involves clowns and air balloons. Jack’s waiting for them in the living room.

She raises an eyebrow at the state of them, “What did you two do?”

Jeremy smiles at her, “Went to a couple-a bars, Michael got into a fight, went to some more bars, got stupid drunk.”

Jack frowns, eyes locking onto Michael’s split lip and the bruise blooming on his cheek, “You got into a fight?”

His forearm starts burning, reminding him that his calf feels the same way as well.

“Fucker deserved it.” Michael declares, handing Jeremy over to Jack when she steps towards them, “Imma head home.”

Jack’s frown gets impressively deeper, “Why don’t you stay here? I can patch you up.”

Michael waves her off, “Nah, can do that myself. See you tomorrow night.”

Jack looks like she wants to stop him, but her arms are full of Jeremy, so Michael makes his quick and only slightly stumbly escape.

***

Michael’s ears were ringing and he was choking on smoke, his body just one agonizing bundle of pain. Heat was lapping at him from all sides. Trying to collect his thoughts was like wading through mud, slowly dragging forth the memory of the explosives going off early. Some idiot had shot one of them, set off a chain reaction.

His inability to breathe was becoming more pressing, and when he coughed his whole body throbbed. He would curse if he had the breath, but instead he had to settle for getting himself up on his hands and knees. His whole body shook with the effort, but he got himself steady, then wrapped an arm around his chest.

His vision was blurry but he forced himself to look around. A flaming pencil rolled across the floor in front of him. Ash and dust were floating through the air, being whipped around by the flames that ate every available surface.

Turning a little farther to the left he noticed Ryan coming towards him. The man’s mask was off and his lips were moving rapidly but Michael couldn’t hear a damn thing.

Ryan dropped to his knees in front of him, his hands coming up to cup Michael’s face, and Michael could finally read Ryan’s lips.

“Are you okay?” Ryan was asking.

Michael tapped his ear, feeling wetness as he did. He pulled his fingers away to see them smeared with blood. Hopefully it wasn’t permanent. He tried to speak but drawing in breath still hurt.

Ryan frowned, “We need to go, think you can make it?”

Michael nodded, looking around before Ryan pressed a mini-gun into his hands. Ryan reloaded his own automatic, smiled at him, and started towards the door. Michael made it two steps before vertigo brought him to his knees. He must have made a sound because Ryan was back at his side in an instant.

“Okay, okay, what are we going to do here?” Ryan must be muttering to himself but Michael was watching. Ryan met his eyes, “I’m going to pick you up, alright?”

Ryan picked him up, bouncing him once to hike him up higher. Michael’s whole body spasmed but he tightened his hold around Ryan’s neck. He could feel the vibrations of Ryan talking but he just tucked his chin over Ryan’s shoulder and adjusted his aim. Ryan squeezed him once, carefully, and started off at a steady pace that had Michael gritting his teeth as he was jostled.

Apparently their little pocket of destroyed basement had been peaceful because the lobby was chaos. The front doors were heaving inwards, threatening to give. Windows had been shot out, glass scattered on the floor. Jeremy and Gavin were taking cover behind the counter, Jeremy smiling and giving Michael a thumbs up when he spotted them. Geoff and Jack were taking cover in the doorway to the alley. Ryan took two steps towards them before he was ducking back into the stairwell as the police outside took potshots through the window.The front doors gave in and a squad of police officers flooded into the bank. Bullets ricochet off the wall beside them. 

Michael found himself temporarily able to take in a full breath, and deeming himself able to provide support, twisted in Ryan’s arms so he could fire back.

He’d never realized how used he was to the noise of chaos until he was in the middle of a firefight in complete silence.

Geoff must have given orders because Gavin and Jeremy were vaulting over the counter to make a mad dash for the other side door, where Jeremy’s Proto should be waiting; the other four providing covering fire for them.

Then Ryan’s sprinting and Michael almost bites his tongue off as pain lights up his entire abdomen, his breaths unbearably short again. Ryan slams his own back against another wall, slightly crushing Michael’s legs, and Michael finally sucks in a lungful of air.

Ryan’s bumping their foreheads together and Michael looks up, “I’m going to jump through a window, okay, so hold on.”

“ _ What? _ ” Michael’s pretty sure he spoke, but Ryan doesn’t answer.

Instead the asshole adjusts his hold around Michael and starts running  _ again _ , and Michael’s ribs (probably just his ribs, hopefully nothing worse) really wished Ryan would stop. Instead, Ryan hurdles them out the window and Michael can feel his bones rattle when they land, fresh pain lancing through his body. He really should be used to pain by now dammit.

Gavin’s purple bike is sitting in the alley, and Ryan settles them onto it, Michael still in his lap, and starts it with keys Michael didn’t know had been given to him. Ryan revved the engine so Michael could feel it, then peeled out of the alley, skidding between two patrol cars and bouncing onto the sidewalk. They’re out of range before any of the officers can think to shoot them. Michael’s pretty sure he sees a helicopter rise from the roof of the bank, but his head’s fuzzy, vision blurry, and he’s just so tired.

***

_ He dozed on their shitty couch, a warm and familiar weight draped over him, a cloud of smoke drifting lazily through their living room. He hummed along to the tracks coming from the DS. He saw a smile tugging at the corners of their lips and purposely messed up the next lyrics to make them laugh. _

_ “What level are you on?” _

_ “Started a new game. On world four right now.” _

_ A victory tune came from the DS. _

_ “World five.” _

_ He was laying on the couch with his legs hooked over it’s back, head rolled to one side so he could watch them play on their DS. Smoke would occasionally appear over the lip of the DS covering their face. _

_ After a minute they stretched a leg out to poke him, “How’s Lindsay and the girls?” _

_ Michael poked the foot back, “Good, the clubs doing good. They’re asking about you, why you haven’t been around.” _

_ “I was there last week.” _

_ “Not long enough for anyone to get a good look at you,” He teased, “Gotten too big to grace our humble business?” _

_ There was a huff that came out as a cloud of smoke, “I’ve just been busy, I’ll come back soon.” _

_ The smoke was thicker now. He could feel soft lips brush his temple, could see just the edges of a purple hoodie. He couldn’t turn his head. _

_ “How was the job?” _

_ He strained to keep sight of that little bit of purple, “What job?” _

_ “The heist with your soulmates.” Dark curls dangling over his eyes, fingers threading through his hair “Must’ve been good, since you stuck around. You were always terrible at that.” _

_ “What are you talking about? I stayed here for you. You’re the one that left.” _

_ The fingers pulled away, hair disappearing with it, “I left for both of us.” _

_ “Why?” _

_ “Cause one of us had to.” _

***

He wakes to a street light shining through the window across the room. The bed’s comfier than the one at his apartment. He’s dressed in an old t-shirt and pajama pants, neither of them his. For a moment he doesn’t know where he is, can’t remember when exactly this is in Michael’s amazingly fucked up life. Then the pain hits him full force and,  _ fuck _ , does he remember now. Building exploding, Ryan driving them away.

His brain does the record scratch thing.

This is probably one of Ryan’s safe-houses, which means that Ryan had to of been the one to patch him up (cause it sure wasn’t Michael), which means that Ryan saw his soulmarks.

Michael’s fucked.

His life has just been one big downward spiral and this is where it hits terminal velocity.

Michael just had to pass out like a little bitch, just had to be unable to deal with his own wounds. Now his whole world has been flipped on its head. Most people have five year plans but apparently Michael can barely keep a five day plan, because his latest one has also been flipped on its head

(Okay, New Plan: Hardcore Ghosting, level: Expert).

He sat up, ignoring the slight dizziness, and moved to stand. He used the bed as support as he looked around the room. Without his glasses he couldn’t see shit, but he managed to find a closet. Hobbling over to it he found a hoodie and sweatpants that looked his size.

Changing clothes was a familiar agony. The painstakingly long time it took him to move sore muscles and get his shirt off and the new one over his head, balancing on one leg to put on pants a whole other task.

Creeping to the room’s door he quietly opened it, poking his head out to see Ryan asleep on the couch. Looking down he noticed all his missing stuff sitting in a pile just beside the door. His shirt and pants were a lost cause, but he refused to leave his jacket. He thought about leaving his boots, putting them on seeming too much of an effort, but they were the only pair he owned so he had to take them.

Michael could see the front door of the place, and of course it was across a stretch of open space. Making his way towards the door had him out of breath, his ribs protesting any movement. Praying it was quiet he opened the door to darkness and a street he vaguely recognized as the northern outskirts of the city. He could distantly hear the highway.

He glanced back at Ryan, sleeping soundly, and stepped out the door. Slinging his boots over his shoulder and digging his phone out of his pocket, he started down the road.

He needed to make a phone call.

***

Switching his phone, moving apartments, disappearing off the radar had all been easy. So easy in fact, that Lindsay had convinced him to take the damn cat with him. Him and the stray moved across the city to a rundown apartment in an even more sketchy area as the last.

The hardest part was slipping under the Fakes watch to still work in the city, still run the Wolves Den, still take the odd jobs. He was settling back into his old routine, one that had never failed him before. But he hadn’t realized how alone he had been until he no longer had Gavin and his hypotheticals, until he made a sarcastic remark and turned only for Jack not to be there.

Right now he was working on building explosives for an upcoming heist. This time the stray staying curled up on the relative safety of his lap, out of the way of accidentally causing any explosions. Her purring was a soothing background as he worked with the tiny wires.

“If I put this here it should connect the transmitter to the timer, which means I can use the remote… or putting this here could blow us up.” He told her, looking down to see her staring at him.

“Mrphm?” She suggested.

“True, thanks fleabag”

She just yawned before curling back up.

His window sliding open only startled him a little bit until he looked over and saw Mica climbing in his apartment.

“Wow, this place looks like shit.” She greeted.

“Alright, fuck you too.” He watched her curl her lip at the lumpy couch before coming to join him at the table, “What do you need?”

She shrugged, flopping into a chair, “Alpha-Beta sent me to check up on you. Make sure you weren’t dead.”

“Tell Elyse I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Sure thing, not like she’ll listen to me.”

“Why are you like this?”

“Why are you moping still? It’s been months.”

“Fuck you, it’s been two months and three days.”

“You’re  _ counting _ ?!”

He glared at her and she glared back.

He quickly finished with the bomb and shooed the stray out of his lap, which earned him a hiss from her, and went to heat up pizza. Mica followed him into the kitchenette, hopping up onto the counter while he pulled the box out of the fridge.

“Must you sit on the counter?”

Mica just shrugged, all  _ what do you want me to do about it? _ with a side of smug asshole. As if in agreement, the cat hopped up on the counter as well.

***

There was a thunderstorm raging outside, which is why he didn’t hear the window opening until Gavin was climbing through it. Michael sat up on the sofa, watching warily as the idiot got inside and closed the window behind him. He had on a dark hoodie that had to be Jeremy’s, and he was soaked to the bone, shivering a bit in the cool apartment.

Gavin got distracted by the stray, leaning down to pet her, cooing and making weird sounds the whole time. Michael was suddenly very aware of the fact that his arms were bare, soulmarks glaringly obvious. Hopefully the apartment was dark enough Gavin couldn’t see them, not that it would matter.

Michael took one last drag from his cigarette before putting it out, “Why the hell are you here?”

Gavin’s head snapped up and he stared at Michael with wide eyes, like he was surprised Michael was in his own apartment, “M-Michool?”

“You’re in my apartment, why? And how did you find me?”

Gavin stood, starting to take a step forward before stopping himself, staring at Michael with those sad eyes, “I went to the Wolves Den. Why’d you leave?”

Elyse was probably the one that gave the asshole his address, but who let him into the club in the first place? Either way they were both fired tomorrow (They weren’t, but he was still going to yell about it).

He shrugged, “Heist was over.”

Gavin made an aborted movement with his hands, “That doesn't mean you had to bloody leave! Just disappear on us in the middle of the night and all, we had no clue if you were even alive or not!” 

Michael stood, crossing his arms, anger and desperation pooling in his gut, “Why do you care? Like I said, the heist was over. I had a life to get back to.”

Gavin narrows his eyes, waving a hand around the room, “Then why’d you run?”

“I didn’t run. I don’t like staying in one place too long. My old apartment was compromised by you, and it was time to move anyways.” He listed off, cold and matter-of-factually.

“Bullshit, you’d been in that apartment the last three years.”

“Why the fuck does it matter Gavin?! It’s done with!”

“Just tell me why you left, Michael.”

Michael threw his hands up, “What else was I supposed to do?! Join the crew!”

“Yes!” Gavin raked his hand through his hair, knocking off his hood, “You fit! You were perfect for it- for us!”

Michael scoffed, “I don’t work with crews. You all knew that when this started, and it didn’t change just because we worked together.”

“We love you goddamn it!” There were tears gathering in the corners of Gavin’s eyes, reflecting the light from a streetlamp outside, “And for a while there I- I thought you loved us back… but I guess I was wrong.”

Michael felt a fist closing around his heart, his hips are on fire, “You don’t mean that.”

“Do you think I’m fucking lying, Michael? Cause it may be part of my job, but I don’t fucking lie about my heart, and definitely not about my soulmates.”

Michael took a step back, “Being soulmates doesn’t mean shit.”

“What about the fact that we loved you before we knew, huh? Does that change anything for you, Michael?” Gavin shook his head, turning to leave, “I don’t know why I even bothered.”

Michael watched him leave before he collapsed onto the couch, head in his hands. It was better this way, for all of them.  _ It was _ .

***

Later that night found him taking the elevator up to the penthouse. He hesitated before knocking on the door, one quiet tap. If they didn’t answer he’d leave. Slap an ‘I tried’ over it and wait for it to haunt him like every other mistake he’s made in his life.

The door opens and it’s Jeremy standing on the other side, in his pajamas and socks, staring at him with wide eyes. If he wasn’t so nervous Michael would find the sense of déjà vu somewhat funny.

“You came back.” Jeremy breaths, as if speaking too loud will run Michael off (It just might).

Michael runs a hand through his hair, “I came to make sure Gavin made it back… and,” He takes a deep breath, “I need to talk to you all.”

There are footsteps from behind Jeremy and now Ryan was staring at Michael over his shoulder. The taller man was still rumpled from sleep, probably coming in search of his missing partner.

Michael tells himself he was prepared for them to be angry, turn him away because he had his chance and he fucked up. Braces himself for anger and yelling. He’d told himself it was a bad idea, but since when does he listen?

Ryan moves Jeremy out of the way to grab Michael, but instead of decking him like Michael deserves, Ryan pulls him into a crushing hug.

Ryan’s hand is against the back of his head, fingers tangling in his curls. His nose is pressed against Michael’s temple, breaths harsh. Michael doesn’t know which of them started shaking first but now they both are.

Jack finds them like that. Within moments everyone’s gathered in the living room, and there’s a cup of hot chocolate pressed into Michael’s trembling hands. He’s cold but the hot cup joins the flames crawling over various parts of his body, and this is fine. It  _ is _ .

Jack sits down beside him, draws in a breath, “Michael? You wanted to talk to us?”

Michael looks up to Gavin, who had wedged himself between Ryan and Geoff and was failing at trying to not look hopeful.

“I’m sorry.” He starts, “I just- I wasn’t ready for you all to find out and I panicked, ran away cause it’s what I do. I shouldn’t have fought with you when you found me.”

“It’s okay, boi.” Gavin gave him a small smile, “You came back, that’s all that matters.”

“I- Okay, yeah, okay boi.” Michael nods, turns to Geoff, “I want to try this, try us.”

“Us? Like in being part of the gang, or being part of..  _ Us _ .” Geoff whirls around a finger to where they’ve all gathered.

“Both… if you’ll let me.”

***

Michael wakes up to fingers carding through his hair, a different set of arms wrapped around his waist to hold him back against the person’s chest. He opens his eyes to look up at Ryan, the older man smiling at him.

“Morning.” Ryan greets, voice still sleep rough.

Michael yawns, glances around the bed. Only finding them and Gavin, whose the one octopussed to Michael’s back.

“Where’s everybody?” He asks, head flopping back onto the pillow.

Ryan nods towards the door, “Geoff’s making breakfast. Pancakes I think.”

Michael hums, “Guess we better get up then, before Jeremy eats them all.”

Ryan pulls him into a lazy kiss before getting out of bed. Michael twists in Gavin’s arms, craning his neck to be able to see the man.

He kisses Gavin’s nose, making him scrunch it up and burrow into Michael’s shoulder,

“Gavvers, time to get up.”

“Don’t wanna.” Gavin grumbles, but kisses Michael’s shoulder before pulling away, ‘What time is it?”

Michael reaches over Gavin to check his phone, “One in the afternoon.”

“Too early.” He still moves to get up.

He disturbs the stray, now affectionately named RT by Jeremy (short for Rimmy Timmette, he’d explained). She gives them a disgruntled look, uncurling and jumping off the bed, probably to go beg food from someone.

“Hey, boi?”

“Yeah, Gav?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, boi.”

His soulmarks no longer felt like they were burning. Now it was a constant warmth that reminded him of standing just a little too close to a fire, instead of in it.

(RT was, in fact, being fed strips of pancake by Jack when they made it into the kitchen.)


End file.
